


you had me at aloha

by MelikaElena



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But for now it's all fluff, M/M, Maybe next time wink wink wink, Modern AU, While this takes place in a plane no one is joining the Mile High Club alas alas, as soft and pure as a unicorn's mane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6263092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelikaElena/pseuds/MelikaElena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty is an exhausted flight attendant who does whatever he can to get through his shift; Miller is a cute passenger who may or may not be single. Monty has six hours to find out. </p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	you had me at aloha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennycaakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/gifts).



> To Jenn, who wanted a fic where Monty is a flight attendant!

The guy in 19C is _cute,_ and Monty can’t help but be grateful for the eye candy. When you’re a flight attendant, any little thing helps, especially on a six-hour flight from Portland, Oregon, to Honolulu, Hawai’i. (He counted four babies all under the age of two on-board so yeah, it’s gonna be a long flight.)

It also helps that the guy sitting _next_ to Eye Candy is cute, and for a moment Monty thinks that it’s his lucky day-- until he realizes that they’re _together_ . Which-- like, who cares, right? Eye candy is called eye candy for a reason, in that you definitely do not _eat_ said candy, you just look at it. But it’s still disappointing, nonetheless. (The guy in 19C is _really_ cute.)

He doesn’t get to talk to him until he’s doing drink service, and of course, it’s actual torture. The guy is doodling on the in-flight magazine, drawing faces on the pictures of women eating salad and men surfboarding, long, sooty eyelashes sweeping his cheekbones. The man next to him is sleeping, head on Eye Candy’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Monty says lowly, so as not to wake the man’s partner up. “What would you like to drink?”

The man looks up, chiseled face, perfect amount of stubble, and it’s even _worse_ up close, having those dark, velvety eyes hone in on Monty. He blinks for a minute, caught unaware, and then smiles slowly, as though Monty’s doing him a favor instead of just doing his job. “Hey, um, do you have passion fruit juice? Or guava?”

“Yeah,” Monty says, digging around. “You want ice?”

“Nah, the can is fine,” the guy says, and Monty hands him the can, their fingers brushing.

_Get it together, Green._

“Does, uh--” Monty doesn’t know what to call him, doesn’t want to assume. He jerks his head to Eye Candy’s seat mate. “Do you think he’d want anything?”

Eye Candy grins. “He hates flying,” he says. “He took some Zyquil and should be out for a while.” He bites his lip. “When he wakes up he’ll probably be thirsty, though. Could I--?”

“Yeah,” Monty says, showing him the call button above his head. “Just call and I’ll bring some water.”

“Cool, thanks…” he looks at Monty’s name tag and smiles. “Monty.”

“You’re welcome,” Monty says, willing himself not to blush. “Do you need anything else? Maybe a pillow?”

Eye Candy looks down at the guy sleeping on him; his mouth is open and he’s drooling a little. “Sure,” he says. “That’d be great.”

“Okay,” Monty says, “I’ll come back when I’m done with drinks.”

“Thanks,” Eye Candy says with another grin.

Monty really wants to ask Eye Candy’s name, but that’s weird, right? Weird and unprofessional. Plus, he’s here with his partner- he can’t possibly be flirting with Monty. So Monty gives him a benign smile and moves on.

Sadly, when he does come back around with the pillow, he can do little more than just hand it to Eye Candy before another passenger vies for Monty’s attention. Eye Candy catches Monty’s eye as he turns away. “Hang in there,” he says sympathetically, and-- is that a _wink_?

Monty doesn’t know whether to be elated or turned off, so he tries not to think about it as he hurries away.

 

* * *

 

He’d forgotten about what he’d told Eye Candy earlier, so when the button is pressed for 19C a couple hours later, Monty can’t stop reading fast enough, although he tells himself to slow down as he gets the water cup, cold but no ice, filled. _Be professional_ , he tells himself sternly.

He goes to 19C and Eye Candy’s ready with a smile, his partner next to him awake with awful bed head and a sleepy grin.

“Awesome,” Eye Candy says, reaching out to take the water and hand it to Bed Head. “Thanks, Monty.”

Bed Head raises an eyebrow as he nods his head in thanks. “Making friends, Miller?”

“Yeah, I’m replacing _you_ , Blake,” Eye Candy-- _Miller_ \-- snaps back, but it’s all with affection.

“Do you need anything else?” Monty asks.

“Nope,” Blake says. “Thanks for the pillow, though. That’s a great suggestion; once I take this Zyquil I’ll be out again, and I can put it against the window.”

“And spare my shirts from your drool,” Miller shoots back, eyeing his shoulder with trepidation.

Blake rolls his eyes and then offers Monty a smile. God, he really is cute, too, but not as cute as Miller. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Monty says, turning already, but then he feels something drop. His book-- he had put it under his arm and forgotten all about it. How embarrassing.

He flushes and bends to pick it up, but Miller’s quicker, reaching down and grabbing it to hand to Monty. Their fingers brush again, and Monty feels like he’s in that _Pride and Prejudice_ movie that Jasper’s girlfriend, Maya, always makes them watch on the first day of her period while eating chocolate ice cream (that’s not to say that Monty _minds_ \-- he actually looks forward to it, although he will _never_ tell Maya that since she’s always so miserable and emotional while Monty just gets to eat free ice cream.)

Miller looks at the cover and grins. It’s _The Gap of Time_ by Jeanette Winterson. “Great choice,” he says approvingly, showing the cover to Blake, who nods in approval. “Did you know they’re doing a whole series of these? Taking Shakespeare plays and modernizing them,with different contemporary authors?”

“I didn’t,” Monty admits, feeling a flush of pride that Eye Candy approved his reading choice-- not to mention, he’s pretty turned on by how smart Eye Candy is. Does that make him Brain Candy, too? “I’ll have to look it up.”

“I can do it,” Miller says. “Don’t want you to forget.”

“Good luck,” Monty says, surprised at the kind offer, “Don’t tell anyone, but the wi-fi isn’t always the greatest here.”

Miller shrugs. “That’s fine; the service more than makes up for it.”

 _Oh, shit._ _Flirting? In front of his wide-awake boyfriend?_ Monty looks at Blake, who is nose-deep in _The Iliad_ and very much not paying attention. Is he insane, or are they really just not together?

It’s difficult for Monty to say, and he’s panicking, so he just gives Miller an awkward smile and says, “Gotta go. Dinner service,” since Hawaiian Air is the only airlines to still serve free food.

As he walks away he thinks he hears Blake say, “Smooth,” but that can’t be right-- Blake and Miller are _together_ . Miller is _not_ flirting with him because he has a boyfriend, who is sitting right next to him, and they’re probably on their way to a romantic Hawaiian vacation or something. Monty’s just lonely and has been out of the game for a while since his last relationship. That’s all.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t have their aisle for dinner; he told Harper that there were two cute guys and he wanted her opinion-- she looked at him suspiciously, but the bait was too good to pass up. Monty knows that going to see Miller again is nothing but trouble, and he needs to stay out of it.

He can’t help but look over at Miller, though, who, upon spotting Harper, has a little frown on his face, head craning above the seats until he spots Monty. His lips quirk up, but Monty looks away quickly, turning his attention to the next passenger.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he thinks to himself as he serves the last passenger and pushes his cart to the back. Harper meets him there.

“You’re right,” she grins, “they _are_ cute. I swear, 19C has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever _seen_ . And next to him, the guy with the freckles and the _arms_? Oh, man, I envy his wife.”

“Harper,” he says slowly, “they’re together.”

“What?” Harper laughs. “No, they’re not. Freckles has a wedding ring and Eyelashes doesn’t.”

Monty blinks.“Wait, what?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t check! Rookie mistake, Green. Plus, Freckles was telling Eyelashes how much he missed Clarke-- his wife, I guess-- and how it had been too long since they were in the same state. I guess he’s moving to Hawaii because she got a job there? And Eyelashes rolled his eyes and said that not everyone was as lucky as _you,_ Blake, to live with the love of your life in paradise. So, yeah! Eyelashes is single.” Harper waggled her eyebrows at him. “Why, you interested? I think you two bat for the same team, or, you know, maybe he's bi, so whatever the bi-sexual metaphor equivalent is.”

Monty rolls his eyes, “No, I get it, Harper. But, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure! Believe me, my ears were _perked,_ like one of those desert foxes.”

Monty snorts at that frighteningly accurate image. “That’s good. I thought… it had seemed like he was flirting with me a little earlier, and I didn’t know what to do because I thought he had a boyfriend.”

“Nope! You’re in the clear,” Harper grins. “Lucky for you, we have Mai Tai Happy Hour coming up, and, uh, maybe you can write your number on his cocktail napkin?”

“Harper,” Monty hisses. “That’s so unprofessional!”

“Oh, please, not if he’s into it, too!” Harper rolls her eyes. “You have good judgement, Monty. Use it.”

So Monty gets his aisle back, and when he’s rolling that godforsaken cart again, this time laden with Maui Sweet Onion Potato Chips and Mai Tai ingredients, he’s greeted by a more subdued Miller, who looks at him intently. Monty gets it-- he _did_ kind of shut him down at dinner service, so he makes up for it with a big grin. “Hey,” he says, and then turns to Blake, who’s back to sleeping. “Mai Tai?”

Miller blinks at him, lips quirking. “Yeah,” he says, jerking a thumb towards Blake. “Can I get my _friend_ ’s, too? Seems only fair since he drooled on me.” Monty doesn’t miss his slight emphasis on _friend_.

Monty shrugs, still grinning. “Works for me,” he says, handing two Mai Tai’s and two potato chip bags to him.

“Great,” Miller says. “Thanks, Monty.”

“You’re welcome…” Monty says.

“Nathan Miller,” Miller responds, and Monty blinks. He’d _known_ Miller was his name; he just hadn’t known it was his last name.

“Nathan,” Monty says, tasting the name. “See you.”

“Looking forward to it,” Miller grins, and they’re both grinning like idiots as Monty moves on.

 

* * *

 

He gets to see Miller one more time before they land, to pick up everyone’s garbage, and Monty doesn’t think he’s ever been on a quicker flight.

When he gets to 19C, Miller offers him trash in one hand, and a folded napkin in the other. “It took me a while, but I found the names of those other books were were talking about earlier,” he says, looking up at Monty from his eyelashes, a little shy. “Thanks for, uh, being a great flight attendant.”

“You’re welcome,” Monty says, taking the napkin and putting it in his pocket for later. “Thanks for being a great passenger. Um, have a great time in Hawai’i.”

“Thanks,” Miller says. “I’ll just be helping this guy,” he gestures to a sleeping Blake, “and his wife move into their new house, but they promised me a nice vacation besides that, so.”

“Is this your first time here?”

“Yeah. Are you from here?”

“Yep,” Monty says. “Born and raised. I went to the mainland for college, but, you know, found my way back.”

“Cool,” Miller grins. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Monty blinks. “That’d be nice,” he says, and Monty knows they’re on the verge of something, but he has to get going-- he’s only halfway through the plane-- and Harper’s already ten rows ahead, so he gives Miller a perfunctory smile and continues on.

 

* * *

 

The end of a flight is always chaotic, and Monty doesn’t even _think_ about the napkin until he’s rolling his luggage leisurely through baggage claim-- this flight was the end of his work cycle and he now has two weeks off. Monty’s car's in the shop, so either Jasper or Monty’s dad is going to come get him and take him home. It's late in the afternoon, however, and rush-hour traffic in Honolulu is a _bitch,_ so Monty knows it could be a while.

The napkin is exactly what he expected-- four books written in blue pen, neatly, and Monty can’t help but trace the words. Well, if nothing else it made his day go by quickly, even if he’s a little wistful. That was a real connection, and now he regrets not doing something, professionalism be damned--

On the other side of the napkin is a phone number.

And not just a phone number, a note.

 

 _Ok, I'll just come out and say it: I_ may _have overheard your conversation with the other flight attendant when I went to the bathroom, so I just want to be clear: I’m single, I’m interested, and if flirting with me is unprofessional, then me flirting with you while you’re working makes me an asshole, so we’re even. If you’re interested in flirting where neither of us look like jerks, I’ll be on Oah’u for the next two weeks._

 

_Nathan Miller_

_503-100-0308_

 

Monty makes his way outside, sitting on a bench so he can look at the note again in disbelief.

“I see you got my note,” comes a voice above him, not five minutes later, and it’s a little weird, to see Miller at his full height as Monty’s sitting (Monty's not sure, but he _thinks_ that if he stood they'd be the perfect height for each other.)

“Just did,” Monty says, feeling a little stunned. “So, you heard everything, huh?”

“Yeah, like how you thought Bellamy was my boyfriend,” Miller says, and Monty’s confused for a moment, before he thinks, oh. Bellamy called him _Miller_ and Miller called him _Blake_ \-- last names, then.

Monty shrugs. “It’s safer to assume he was than he wasn’t.”

“True,” Miller concedes. “But he’s not.”

Monty gestures to the note. “I got that.”

They're silent for a moment, and then Miller deflates a little, turning away. “Right, well--”

“Have you checked your phone?”

Miller turns back. “What?”

Monty grins, “Check your phone.”

Miller takes it out of his pocket, sheepishly. “I haven’t turned it back on yet,” he says. "The only person we needed to call was Clarke, and Bellamy took care of that." He looks in the distance where Bellamy is with their luggage, trying to his hardest not to look over too frequently. 

Miller powers it on and looks at the screen, ignoring the texts from his other friends and focusing on the one unrecognized number: 

 

**[808-100-0220]**

_Hi, this is Monty, from the plane-- What a coincidence; I have the next two weeks off, too ;) Let’s figure something out_

 

Miller’s grinning when he looks up from his phone, Monty already grinning back at him.

“I think I’m really going to like it here,” Miller says.

And Monty can’t help but say, “I’ll make sure of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is all fantasy, EXCEPT for the part where Hawaiian Airlines not only feeds you food, but Mai Tai's and Sweet Onion potato chips (it's pretty fucking great.) Those flight attendants HUSTLE, man; be kind to them.


End file.
